Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Disheartened

Like the dust filling the air this dry season, troubles and
difficulties hover in this place. Almost
every breath breathes them in, breathes them out. You think that maybe the dust has settled, but then a passerby or a rolling tire comes and poofs it back up to fill the air. Even when you haven’t
noticed it as much, its still there. You go to blow your nose and there’s half
dust, half snot. Just like even the decent days are filled with struggle mixed
in, constant dirt in what otherwise could be a nice scene.

Effort has been significant, difference made has been minimal. I will
qualify “minimal” by saying that for individuals served by the physician-
patient relationship, lives have been changed, spirits lifted, maybe even
hearts opened. But in the systemic plagues that define medicine in the
developing world, little to no change. Pages could be written about culture, or
departmental issues, or education, or mission hospitals, or accountability, or
sustainability, but the words would only describe, they couldn’t in themselves
actually bring resolution. I have spoken them over and over, and am weary of
speaking to issues beyond my strength to change. I have fought hard, a good
fight with worthy goals, but winning is not possible. My encouragement is that
disappointment now is often looked back on with gratitude for what we have
learned in the process.

For now, there are hard, jagged days that I wonder multiple times “how
much longer?” Where I check the calendar on the phone attached to my hip to see
if the time is drawing near. The constancy of the struggle turns my gaze away
from the here and now to something that may someday be. To faces that I love,
people that I miss, the gentle blanket of familiarity. For those moments the
wonder is gone for distant places and things, and returns to the place where my
roots hold fast. The romance in my imagination returns to home. Beauty, and
warmth, and acceptance, snuggled alongside those I love most, tucked in between
mountains and streams, familiar places, delightful people. And when I think of
it, I remember that there is an even better home waiting, an eternal home. One
filled with ultimate purpose and pleasure and love. A home where He is. A home
that I am one day meant for.

Home. There is no comfort in that word, no heart connection for millions
who roam the earth. I do not speak of here in Cameroon specifically, not for
the moment. But in nations not too far to the north or east or west or south, and
then further countries spotted all over the globe, they are there wandering,
wallowing in despair. Daily struggles for survival and basic necessities are
considered normal for many. Hopelessness sets in, trying to overtake any other
emotion. Children dying untimely deaths, men and women with no semblance of
honor left, disease, war, and decay ruining what could be a beautiful world.
Yet there are those with a glimpse of hope, not for here and now, but for
somewhere and forever. They stop in the midst of the struggle to imagine what
it will be like “in a little while”. They long for a better world. The
desperate spirit inside calls out to the God above, yearning to be freed from
all the horrors that have come to make up life. Longing for the time to come.

And yet, amazement will always be ignited within me when I recall
the reality of the God who hears. I can’t understand even the worst days that
come and go in my own life. How much less the much worse horrors in the most
desperate of places. I can’t give you the right answer for why bad things
exist, sometimes even thrive. But God does hear and is at work from the broken-hearted
wealthy, residing in penthouses, to the hungry refugee within the barbed-wire
encircled camp. And the rest of those who read this, who are somewhere in
between.

I lie down sometimes in my bed at the end of a disheartening day,
and in the darkness remember that on the wall just above my head is written “I
will both lie down and sleep in peace, for You, O Lord, make me to dwell in
safety”. I am reminded of His presence. Even when the night comes on thick in
its darkness I can take cover, give a little grin and think “in a little
while”. Better things are yet to come.